


serious

by onegirlandherpen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bad Coffee, Break Up, But not for Greg, Disappointment, F/M, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, It's just a bit of fun, POV Lestrade, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 02:31:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onegirlandherpen/pseuds/onegirlandherpen
Summary: It was only ever going to be a fling, but Greg couldn't help hoping it'd been more.





	serious

**Author's Note:**

> This is hurt and angst without comfort. Sorry! I promise to make it up to my favourite DI and give him some fluff next time. 
> 
> This short fic was written on the train into work this morning and has been lightly edited, so please do excuse any mistakes!

  
  
The coffee was dreadful. Hot, at least; it gave him something to warm his hands on. But it was dreadful; tasted like it'd had all its life and flavour crushed out of it. Greg took another tentative sip, wincing as it scalded his tongue. So, he could still feel at least; this morning he hadn't been so sure he could.

No, that wasn’t true, he did still feel. That was the problem; he felt too much.

Raising the chipped mug to his lips, he took one more sip. Very bitter; the coffee, that was. He couldn’t feel bitter about what’d happened. It wasn’t as though they’d been serious; hadn’t she said that is was a bit of fun, and he’d agreed. Though perhaps those words should’ve been a warning to him - she wasn’t serious, she didn’t want a relationship. But Greg did; and carrying that expectation with him was leading to nothing but disappointment. Which is exactly how he felt right then, sat there clutching a vile mug of cheap coffee, on his own.

‘It’s been great fun, Greg,’ she’d started to say as he’d run his fingers down her bare arm, enjoying the warmth of her next to him in his bed earlier that morning. ‘But I’ve decided to move on.’

‘Sorry?’

His hand had stilled, the warmth started to feel a little too close as he’d realised what she was telling him.

‘I’ve met someone else, Greg, and it’s serious.’

Bloody hell, that word again. Greg had pulled away from her, pushing the duvet off, trying to get rid of its oppressive warmth. How could she know it was serious? Unless she’d been seeing this someone else while being with him. And there is was all over again - he was being sidelined. Dumped.

She’d left his house soon after, a quick kiss on his cheek as he’d stood in the hallway in just his pyjama trousers. What had he been feeling as he’d watched her pull his front door closed behind her? Sad? Hurt?

He’d done it again. Got ahead of himself, believed everything was good. But really, he was just oblivious, completely oblivious to what was actually going on.

The smell of the coffee brought him back to the dingy little caff he’d found himself in. Somehow, after she’d left, he’d got himself showered, dressed, and out of the house without really noticing that he’d done it.

The tables around him had filled up - Saturday shoppers, old familiar locals, teenagers gazing at each other over a fry up. Pushing the mug away, Greg felt his stomach rumble. He hadn't been able to face breakfast. Standing up to leave, he felt a sudden urge to get out in the fresh air, to walk and keep walking until his legs ached.

Striding out the door before he knew what he was doing, Greg’s feet hit the pavement and quickly took him in the direction of the park. His body wanted a long, hard run, but he only had his Converse on. Shame. A brisk walk would do it though. Pushing, striding, he wanted to get rid of the feeling that was trying to grip its way around his heart.

What was the point of the hurt? After all, it had only been ‘a bit of fun’. Stupid, typical him for thinking anything else.

****  



End file.
